A Normal Paradise
by Sabilandako
Summary: He didn't expect that after he shot the gun pointed to his head, he would wake up to a normal day. But he knew that it was far from normal as everybody finally accepted him; his pain-filled heart becoming one again. He wanted this paradise to last,but he knew something was wrong,and he realized that when someone begged him those 'three words.' Normal? Not anymore. (summary inside)


-A Normal Ending-

He didn't know what happened, but what England could ever remember was that after he shot the gun positioned welcomingly on his head, he suddenly woke up to a normal day. But he soon saw that it was far from normal as everybody had finally gave him attention and happiness; his ever pain-filled heart slowly mending its way back again in one piece. He almost never wanted this paradise to end, but he knew that something was wrong. And he found what was that when someone came sobbing to him spitting out those 'three words'. Everything really was far from normal.

* * *

**Meh. Just some random plot that came to me as I wrote the rather-happy chapter 11 (the 14th chap) of ECFA... And I also wrote this for about thirty minutes around three in the morning so don't expect some good quality type of writing. Pffft. Not that I could write good stories and/or chapters anyways...**

**But yeah, enough with the depreciating thoughts... I hope you enjoy what my sleep-deprived and problem-filled mind could offer...**

* * *

It was one of those normal meetings. Those that just ended up with fights and bickers; those that just ended up with nothing resolved, the world's problems still haven't been finished and talked about. This really was just a normal meeting with normal nations normally spitting out normal teases and normal words. But now, on this normal day, nothing could be classified as normal.

It was far from normal.

It was a very rare moment when silence would envelop and cloud the room. Normally, most of the times, it would be because of Germany that everything and everyone would quiet down. It was mostly due to his normally stern warnings that made everyone shut their mouths. But on this not _normal _meeting, it was not the normally stern German who had caused it.

It was America.

And it was mostly due to his words directed to the unsuspecting and unusually quiet Englishman.

The words that had come out of his mouth were not something America would just normally shrug off. In fact, he would even normally slap himself for it. But right now, on the middle of his almost-normal shouting war with England, he didn't register it like he normally would inside his mind. England, on the other hand, couldn't process anything except for the normal dark thoughts inside his mind.

_'I'm glad I am independent now! All you ever do was to nag and scold me! You're not my guardian or something!'_ That was what the American practically shouted that made the normally scowling England open his mouth to speak, only to find that he couldn't. It pierced the silent green-eyed man already broken heart a million times; setting it to flame and letting it burn.

But no. England could feel his whole body being torn to shreds when they spoke up instantly after the American; showering him with words that he so much knew he deserved. Did they know that he was dying? No, maybe, as they continued to mercilessly kill him.

_'Amerique's right, you're all alone, Angleterre. And you will be always forever be. After all, you're the Black Sheep of Europe.'_

Of course. He had expected it already. The frog would instantly side with America. Oh, he knew that he was all alone, with no one ever liking him. He really was the black sheep, and he was a pathetic nation that all wanted was some company that would never be at his disposal.

After all, all the Frenchman ever wanted was to break the lonely island nation to pieces; to see him as miserable as possible. Ha, England thought, as if he wasn't broken already, given him being as an island nation in the first place.

He just glared at the smirking Frenchman with a stare hiding desperate pleas.

_'Who would want to stay around with you? You're just some harsh sarcastic delinquent that got a foul attitude!'_

And then these people followed the normal trend they would always do. They would speak some rather harsh things to the poor Brit; one that he always believed to be true. Yes, he was sarcastic and he got a foul attitude, he had already accepted that. He always tried to be nice and to try to speak some positive words, but it always ended up as a negative comment. He really was useless; someone that couldn't do anything right. But, what his heart could ever do was to break into million pieces.

He just stared them with eyes desperately asking for acceptance.

'_Those eyebrows are hideous, just trim them! And you're eyes? They're creepy! You're ugly, who would want to hang out with you?'_

He knew, he was not the most good-looking man out there; actually he was far from it. Very far. He knew that his eyebrows were big; hideous as everybody would put it. But he would always try to trim it, really, he would. Although nothing seemed to work; as maybe, he was doomed to be forever teased and laughed at. And his eyes, it was a pity as it was the only thing he was rather proud of. But that was instantly shattered as his eyes were just mere things of annoyance that everyone would rather normally not want to see. He was just that nation that hold no importance whatsoever.

He just growled at them with a voice already preparing to sob broken cries.

_'Just do us a favor and die. After all, it's like no one will care if you disappear.'_

And that did the normal trick.

* * *

His hands were shaking as he folded the neat sheet of paper into two. After doing so, he put it beside the empty bottle of pills he had taken a while ago; careful not to tip the half-filled bottle of a very strong alcohol beside it. England decided that this would be the easiest place for the others to see the letter; but he just shrugged it off thinking that nobody would even come in his house in the first place.

But if anyone even managed to get here, which England highly doubt would happen, then that person would maybe even throw a party after seeing his _suicide note. _But there was no 'maybe' as England was sure that they would really do it; throw a party and then everyone would have a good time... _But not England. Never England.._. Perhaps they would finally be even happy and have the note framed in gold? He was sure of that...

There really was nothing interesting on the note he had written. He was just saying sorry for his mistakes; for being grumpy, for being sarcastic and a prude, for being a spawn of satan, for _being the black sheep of Europe, _for being _alone, _for having _hideous eyebrows and creepy eyes, _for being _weak and desperate, _for being _the person that nobody ever wanted, _for being a _burden to everybody, _for being _broken and shattered, __**and for being England.**_

He was just saying sorry _for ever existing._

That was all. He was sorry. That was the only thing that filled the suicide note he brokenly made and carefully placed on the table.

_It was just a note filled with normal sorrys._

But it was far from normal as it held a very deep deathly feeling inside England.

But nobody would even care.

Perhaps they would just shrug and walk away after reading the note and after seeing England bloody due to the gun he shot right through his head.

And nobody would even care.

England laughed brokenly; deliciously hollow, as he finally pulled the trigger.

_BANG!_

Nobody would have cared anyway.

* * *

The song 'God Save The Queen' suddenly echoed throughout the whole room, and it made England jerk bodily before finally sitting up on his bed; his whole body sweating, his chest throbbing.

His phone, which was placed beside the table that contained no empty bottle of pills and half-filled alcohol bottle, vibrated rather loudly as the song continued. England stared at it for a while; his mind occupied about what had happened.

Had it all been his dream?

He really hoped so, that it was just a dream; that everything was all right and no one shouted at him, that no one hated him, that no one teased him, that no one cussed him, that everyone accepted him, and that no wanted him _dea-_

He didn't even realize that he was hyperventilating by the time his phone rang again.

The distraught Englishman shakily brought his phone over his hear; silently praying that whoever was calling could tell him was happening. But, to his ear's unfortunate demise, he was met by a very loud greeting.

_'ARTIE! WAKE UP DUDE!~ You're totally late for the meeting now! Hahahahahaha~ Come on, everyone's waiting for you!~'_

That was what America, as England confirmed with the loud voice and the American accent, practically shouted cheerfully on the other line.

"W-what...?"

_'Dude, the meeting! Hahahahah~ you're late and everyone kinda misses your presence! Come on, even the hero managed to come earlier than you!~'_

Well, wasn't that weird? His presence? Missed? Everyone was missing his presence?

England couldn't believe it! Everyone was missing him! Oh, now he really believed that he killing himself because of his own faults was just a dream. It was just a horrible dream that made him late for some meeting!

The Englishman almost cried here and then, but he managed to thank the normally over-excited American before hanging up.

He excitedly prepared himself for whatever meeting they were having; his dream, dared he say it, already long forgotten. And after an hour, he was all prepared to attend the meeting.

Maybe something good would happen today? Oh, England was getting excited.

* * *

England was right. Everything was good; the best even.

America had greeted him with a bear-hug the moment he stepped inside the meeting room; with Canada just sighing playfully behind him. England was even surprised that Germany didn't shout at him, instead opting to smile a little and scold him good-naturedly for being late. And then France, although he was still being a frog in England's opinion, greeted him with a rose.

And then everything kept on going smoothly.

For once, there was no teasing him about his eyebrows, nor his eyes. In fact, France even complimented on it being a shining emerald that just makes 'Big brother France wanting to give you a hug!~'. And then there was no bad-mouthing him, about his foul attitude, or about his horrendously bad cooking. Italy and Romano even managed to make him agree to be the brothers' student in cooking. For once, there was no shouting at him, saying that he wasn't good enough. There was no telling him that he was just a liability, no one telling him he was hated.

And then there was no one shoving him and saying he deserved to die...

"England, are you okay? You're kinda pale and breathing quickly..." America asked concernedly, taking in the Brit's unfocused sight and his hyperventilation.

England just nodded with a smile.

This was paradise.

He was finally wanted here.

* * *

It had been over a month after he had dreamt that nightmare, and all throughout the month, everybody was being kind to him.

England knew that all of them were not toying with him; he knew that all of the good things they continue to shower to him were done without hidden intentions. Everyone and everything was peaceful, and the Brit managed to repair himself over the course of that one month.

His heart, the one that had been broken and shattered so many times years and centuries ago, was healing due mostly to the nations around him. They were making him happy; making him come out of his shell and for once, be proud of himself.

For once in his life, no one had bared his faults. For once no one had hurt him. For once, he managed to trust them, and most importantly, for once he finally casted away the dark thoughts that were ever-present inside his mind.

England was in paradise, that he knew was really _real. _Everything was just so perfect, but there was something bugging him.

_This paradise, this everything he has, was far from normal._

England could really feel it. He knew, that although this everything had all been good to him, something was not right.

Something was wrong.

He really could feel it. Although he didn't know where to look for this unwanted feeling, he knew that it was just somewhere; preparing to attack him when he least expected.

So when one day, when he walked in inside the meeting room, he was starting to see what this _not normal _feeling was.

Everybody was staring at him; their eyes red and puffy. England could tell, they were crying. Why, he had no idea.

Suddenly, America tackled him in a tight hug; just much like what he did when England first stepped in inside this room only to find everything as perfect; although this time, this hugged just contained remorse instead of the welcoming one.

England could feel the clothes on his shoulder area becoming damp, and all he ever did was to pat the American on the back confusingly. America was crying, that much he knew. Damn it, _everyone _was crying! But he bloody didn't know why.

"Alfred, poppet... Listen, why are you crying?" England had asked. Outside, he was dead concerned, although on the inside, even though he was still worried sick, he was also panicking.

Was it something he had done? Had he managed to do something wrong? It was because of his rude attitude again, no? Or maybe it was because again of his eyebrows? Why, did his creepy eyes finally made the nations realize that he was just a liability? Had they finally realized that he should be better alone?

Had they finally decided that England, the one they managed to break once, only to stitch back again, really did deserve to die?!

_'No no no no no please no no no please please n-'_

A rough shake brought him to reality, and then his green eyes suddenly met the worried yet still puffy blue eyes of the American in front of him.

"Artie... Calm down... Calm down, we can make through all of this..."

What '_this'_?!

And then America broke down again.

This time, England suddenly felt so small, so confused.

But most of all, he felt so scared.

He didn't know what was happening, hell, he was even confused of this 'perfect' paradise of him!

_'WHAT IS HAPPENING?!'_

"Artie... Oh god England... E-everyone misses you..." A choked sob. "They miss you so m-much...!" A tighter hug. "They want to see your eyes again, they w-want to hear your laugh and y-your voice again!" A pitiful wail. "They want to see you blush again, they want you to talk to you!" A strangled cry. "They fucking want to see you moving again, Arthur!"

And then suddenly, England knew what was wrong on his paradise when America sobbed these three words...

"_Please wake up...!"_

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**Sooooo~ Hahah waddya guys think? Hahahahaha I'm debating whether I'll make this a one-shot or not, but if you guys want to, I can make this a two-shot.~**

**Hahahah shit, my mind is pretty fucked up now. I can't even think straight. Oh gosh, I deserve some sleep... I still haven't got a wink of sleep for more than 24 hours now... -_-''**

**Reviews?**


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